The Missing Piece

Eight

A few days later and Niall is withdrawn.

With Zayn working a twelve hours shift and Louis and Liam both at school, Harry gets to spend plenty of time simply observing the boy's behaviours and quirks. The way he whispers to himself whilst he plays, always in the corner of the room when he's alone. The way he blushes at the slightest bit of attention, and avoids stepping foot outside at all cost - which is why all the shopping they've done for the boy has been online so far.

Not that Harry minds that last one. Until George is found and locked away, he'd prefer to keep Niall inside, at home, where he's safest.

There are other things too. He's a quiet kid, a shy one. He barely speaks when Zayn's around - probably because the man has spent two of the three days that they've had Niall here for at work. He eats slowly and minutely. The only time Harry gets so much as a smile out of him is when he's getting him ready for bed at night; and then as soon as he's tucked in, he gets all quiet again.

Currently, eleven am on a Friday morning, Niall is in his bedroom and has been there since breakfast.

Harry's trying to give him time. He's trying to remain where he is, in the living room, reading his book and sipping his coffee. When reading doesn't come easily, he sets the book aside and looks towards the patio doors that look out into the garden - the pool covered over with tarpaulin and the grass littered with frost, the sky overcast and off-white.

With a huff, he stands up, sets his half-empty mug down on the coffee table, and heads towards Niall's room. He can't do it, can't sit around and pretend everything is okay when his eight year old son is locking himself away in his bedroom like some depressed teenager.

The door is not quite closed when he gets there, but he knocks nonetheless. He doesn't get an answer so he pushes the door open quietly, not wanting to wake the boy if he's sleeping.

However, when he steps into the room, it appears empty at first glance. Immediately, panic so strong that he feels ready to either pass out or throw up stabs through his abdomen, but then the curtains move, ever so slightly.

They drape down to the floor, and in the tiny gap where the two of them are drawn to, Harry spots two tiny feet.

So relieved his knees feel sure to buckle, he takes a breath to calm his nerves.

"Ni, sweetie," he calls out softly, crossing the room and kneeling down on the other side of the curtain, tugging it across to reveal the eight year old sitting with his knees drawn close, his side leaning against the wall beneath the window sill, Bunny pressed against one cheek. "What're you doing down here, Bug?"

Niall looks up at him, then looks down again and shrugs.

Harry sighs. "Hey, no, don't do that. Talk to me, baby."

Niall whimpers at that, and then, to Harry's dismay, he lets out a sob. Followed by another and another until he's crying so hard that Harry doubts he can take a breath between each hiccup. Fat tears roll down his cheeks and god, Harry's heart breaks for his boy, it really does.

But when he reaches out to try and comfort him, Niall lets out a louder sob and pushes his hands away.

"N-no, no! Go 'way," he cries out.

Harry's heart hurts even more at those words, because they're the last thing he wants to hear, the exact opposite of what he wants to hear.

"Ni, baby -"

Niall scrambles backwards and then stands up, shaking his head wildly. "M'not your baby! M'not! Y-you're not my Dad!" He shouts, and Harry freezes, chest tightening and his eyes burn with tears.